Try Me
by imagionista
Summary: Annabeth and Percy are taking some time off, leaving both of them single. Annabeth didn't think she'd move on, but it all changes when she meets Luke's brother, Victor. Meanwhile, Percy's become a troublemaker. His rich girlfriend Jude, a mortal who can see through the Mist, doesn't seem to be helping. Was Percabeth ever destined to be? Or will Percy and Annabeth fall apart?


Friday night. Seven p.m. And here I am, perched on the edge of my bunk in Cabin 6, in my PJs and my bed-head updo still intact.

It's unusual, I know, especially for a 25-year-old lady (jeez, I'd gotten used to saying 'teenaged girl') who honestly isn't all that ugly. But I've lost interest in all partying since my mother (who just so happens to be an immortal Greek goddess) called for some 'time out' between Percy and I. Overprotective, much. You'd think she'd get used to it during the course of our nine-year-long steady relationship. But no, one fight and we apparently need to 'take a break'.

Not that I'm complaining, however terrible that may sound. Lately, things had gotten a little strained between us. I'd caught Percy checking out other girls from time to time, and we'd been having a lot of minor tiffs. I guess the huge row we'd had was just icing on the cake. Ignore the cliché-ness of that expression, but I'm honestly not in the mood to elaborate.

Bottom line: I'm single. And I'm planning to spend the weekend sketching designs for the latest building in Mount Olympus (long story).

I'm the only one here, I think, but one can never be too sure: us children of Athena can be _very _sneaky. I try to reassure myself that I'm the only one here, to witness my pathetic Friday night. I guess I'd got so used to having an adoring boyfriend that I'd forgotten how to socialize… like, _romantically _socialize.

Right on cue, the door swings open and someone walks in. My eyes are bleary, but I soon make out the short, lean girl who skips into the cabin, breathless.

"Hey, Cindy. What's up?" I ask, my voice low and cracked.

She grins. "Great! I think I've found my special someone, Beth."

Though Cindy's about four years younger than me, and though our personalities are nowhere alike, we've struck up a strange friendship. I, the older, wiser (no disrespect meant) and lonely counselor; and Cindy, the youthful, preppy flirt with an aptitude for computer science.

I sigh. "This is the nineteenth 'special someone', you know."

She pauses, head tilted. "Twentieth, I think."

"No, I'm sure it's the nineteenth," I say, smiling. "So what brings you here? Shouldn't you be out there, cracking suggestive jokes and trying to get him to dance with you?"

She shrugs. "I wanted to change, actually. This dress is a little too modest." She tugs at her turtleneck with a morose expression.

"Go on," I say, turning around. I hear the ruffles of clothes being torn off and put back on and when she calls, "I'm done," I turn around.

She certainly knows how to make use of a body that even daughters of Aphrodite would have to contest. She's donned a sequined pink crop top with a neckline that would be censored on TV; short shorts that fit her hips tightly and a pair of heels that elevate her to 5'9".

"Wow," I mutter. I guess I just miss dressing up for Seaweed-Brain.

She notices my forlorn expression. "Annabeth, you haven't seen daylight in _weeks_."

It's true. Ever since we'd had to split up, I've fallen into a sort of depression, which I actually never imagined would ever happen to me. As a result, my hair lay limp across my shoulders, dark circles framed my sunken eyes and my skin was pale and dry.

I shrug. "I'm okay," I say confidently. "You go ahead."

Cindy shakes her blonde head firmly. "No. You're coming with me," she says decisively.

"What? To your drunk nightclub?" (The Hot Place is actually a mortal club, but us demigods tend to frequent it, as it has anti-mortal protections thanks to some very dedicated children of Dionysus. As a result, it's become the go-to half-blood hangout for many. However, I've never been there before—Percy and I had always been more of the 'stay home and watch DVDs till 3 a.m. kind of couple).

She scowls. "You should really try and see some other people. Who knows? You're going to go partying tonight, Beth."

"What? But—"

"No 'but's," she says, dragging me into the little bathroom at the end of the cabin. She takes a long look at me and rubs her temples wearily. "You need a shower. Shampoo and conditioner," she adds critically. "And moisturizer."

"Cindy, I don't really—"

"I'll be done with your outfit and some makeup when you're out," she says, slamming the door behind her.

I groan and undress, hanging my Mickey-Mouse tee, baggy shorts and undergarments on the hooks on the door. I step under the flow of water and just revel in the warmth for a few seconds. Then I lather on soap, working in the shampoo and conditioner into my golden locks. After rinsing, I dry myself with one of the fluffy white towels on the rack, and rub moisturizer into my skin. It certainly helps, I note, glancing at my reflection in the mirror opposite me.

I wrap the towel around me and step out of the bathroom. I shiver in the sudden blast of cold air, but cock my eyebrow at Cindy. "Well?"

In reply, she holds up a skimpy crop top even the Aphrodite girls would have been dubious about, and black leather jeans that yell 'single'. "What do you think?" she says, holding up a pair of cute grey kitten heels with her spare hand.

I groan. "What happens if I say 'no'?"

"I'll force you to wear it anyway," she says.

Two hours later, I'm dancing tipsily to some mortal beat with the straps of my top sliding down my bare shoulders and my feet bare, the kitten heels strewn under a table at the back. So far, I'd made out with about seven guys. Blame it on the alcohol: I get drunk easily, okay?

I notice some chubby dude with a belly the size of a delivery van eye me, so I quickly retreat. Soon, I find myself in the darker recesses of the nightclub.

I decide to go and find Cindy. She'd taken a while since she'd gone with Benji, her latest crush, to get more drinks. I step around kissing couples and spilt beer, my eyes focused on a yellow head that I'm sure belongs to my friend. That is, until I bump into someone, and suddenly my eyes are facing the gritty blue of the dancefloor instead.

"Hey, are you okay?" A muscular arm helps me up. I stare into the face of a tall, sandy-haired man, whose face looks awfully familiar.

"Dude, watch where you're going!" I snap, choosing to ignore the fact that _I'd _bumped into him.

"Calm down, girl. I got it," he says, though he sounds more amused than annoyed. He flashes me a flirtatious smirk. "So, what's your name, my fiery beauty?"

"Annabeth Chase," I say, giggling drunkenly.

"Well, Annabeth, I'm pleased to meet you." He takes a second to observe me from head to toe, and blushing, I pull up the straps of my crop top and attempt to straighten my jeans. "I'm Victor."

"Victor what?" I ask curiously.

"Victor Castellan."


End file.
